Genre: Young MG/Science-fiction
Word Count: 29,000
Pitch: Eager to play his new computer game, eleven-year-old Peter is shocked to find his mom stuck in the game. To save her, he embarks on a quest with animal allies and the strangest army ever.
First 250:
Peter let the screen door slam as he entered the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. He felt the refrigerator air hit the drops of sweat on his face and sighed. School was out for the summer, and their old farmhouse always needed something done; he worried his mom might sabotage his screen time all week. He’d have to wait until Dad got back from his trip for her to lay off her Do-something-besides-the-computer campaign.
“Mom! I’m done washing your car.”
His dog scurried from the adjacent office, claws sliding on the tile floor.
“Hi Pi. I don’t have anything for you. Where’s Mom?”
Pirate growled.
“What’s wrong? Mom gave you chores too?” Peter laughed, digging into the cookie jar.
Pirate dashed back to the office, barking. Peter followed, eager to play his game. At the doorway, he saw Pirate with his forepaws on the computer desk, his mouth reaching for something. “Hey, get down! What are you doing?”
Pirate dropped a small silver object at Peter’s feet. He looked at Peter, then the computer, and growled again.
“What’s this?” It was dull and scratched, but fit nicely in Peter’s hand. Broken pottery and odd objects often surfaced on their property, which had been a dairy farm for 100 years. Peter’s Dad was a geologist, and liked explaining how rocks move through the soil with repeated freezes and thaws. It’s just someone’s junk. He tossed it in the wastebasket with a vague feeling that it reminded him of something.
Word Count: 29,000
Pitch: Eager to play his new computer game, eleven-year-old Peter is shocked to find his mom stuck in the game. To save her, he embarks on a quest with animal allies and the strangest army ever.
First 250:
Peter let the screen door slam as he entered the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. He felt the refrigerator air hit the drops of sweat on his face and sighed. School was out for the summer, and their old farmhouse always needed something done; he worried his mom might sabotage his screen time all week. He’d have to wait until Dad got back from his trip for her to lay off her Do-something-besides-the-computer campaign.
“Mom! I’m done washing your car.”
His dog scurried from the adjacent office, claws sliding on the tile floor.
“Hi Pi. I don’t have anything for you. Where’s Mom?”
Pirate growled.
“What’s wrong? Mom gave you chores too?” Peter laughed, digging into the cookie jar.
Pirate dashed back to the office, barking. Peter followed, eager to play his game. At the doorway, he saw Pirate with his forepaws on the computer desk, his mouth reaching for something. “Hey, get down! What are you doing?”
Pirate dropped a small silver object at Peter’s feet. He looked at Peter, then the computer, and growled again.
“What’s this?” It was dull and scratched, but fit nicely in Peter’s hand. Broken pottery and odd objects often surfaced on their property, which had been a dairy farm for 100 years. Peter’s Dad was a geologist, and liked explaining how rocks move through the soil with repeated freezes and thaws. It’s just someone’s junk. He tossed it in the wastebasket with a vague feeling that it reminded him of something.
Instant Classic
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